A friend is forever
By Macy Gallagher of PCMS
I always believed that if you are nice, you will always be able to make new friends. Well, with me that rule came into effect a few weeks ago. When I thought I had lost all my friends, only to make a new one.
A friend is forever… a friend is forever… I’m trying to think of what next to put into my poem. Mrs. Burs is very strict about our assigned work. And if I don’t have this in by Monday, I don’t know what would happen. I have never been a good writer, much less a poet, but I’m trying to think of what to put next when a shadow blocks my view. It turns out I’ve been in the girls’ locker room since the bell rang, and I’m not so sure the soccer team enjoys my company. So much for getting to class early I think in my head as I stand up to leave. I accidentally bump into the shadow girl when I stand up. “Excuse me” I say in my small wimpy voice. “ Hey” a big rough hand falls on me pulling me back into the danger I know I’m about to face. I backed away and hurried out of the room before she got a better grip on my arm.
As I walk into my first class for the day everyone is huddled into their own little friend groups all around. I wanted so badly to go and join one of those groups. Like that would ever happen.
The rest of the day was the same old routine. Out to the hall. Shoved by some guy at my locker. Made fun of by the “popular” girls. I just wish it would stop. I mean, what did I ever do to them? I don’t understand why people get judged by the outside. Seriously, you don’t have to be pretty or popular to be nice.
On the way to the bus, I see another girl that I have never seen before. I caught her looking at me but she quickly turned away. I made an attempt to talk to her. But she probably would not talk to me. On the bus she came over to me. “Is it ok if I sit here?” “Umm… sure” I say we were silent for a while, but after a few minutes she turned to me” I’m Abby” she said “hi I’m Clair” we started talking and it turns out she is a lot like me. Her favorite color is purple, and she hates broccoli, just like me! The next day I knew what my poem would be for Mrs. Burs. As I got up to read I started shaking. But I saw my new friend in the back of the room, and I got a new burst of inspiration. And I started to read:
A friend is forever
Like a picture frame of a flower
Even if the real thing isn’t there
It is always with you
For the people that judge from the outside
Some are like pineapples
Even if the outside is prickly and ugly
The inside is always sweet